


The Quintessence of Dust

by crowlord



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, I will update tags as we go, I'm not entirely sure how to tag the AU but its a grittier sort of sci-fi, M/M, Multi, space revolution au, the violence isnt that graphic as of yet but tagging it just in case, there we go, theyre still in space but everything is very different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10048613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowlord/pseuds/crowlord
Summary: The hardest part about trans-systemic flight, once one got over the fact that the unlicensed craft probably had its gravity generator shut off every few days, and the times when the heads-up before a hostile boarding was given two minutes prior by a tractor beam from a cloaked ship, wasn't actually the agonizing days of transit. It wasn't the boredom of the people around him either, Lance realized. He could deal with Hunk taking apart every piece of equipment and putting it back together, and he could deal with Keith staring into space while sharpening the nearest bladed object. They dealt with the constant stream of words that spouted from his throat from the moment things got quiet, to the moment he went hoarse; he was eternally thankful that neither of them had snapped his neck, as many others had threatened to do.Rather, the hardest part of long-distance space voyages was being stuck in a time capsule for weeks on end, homesick for the passage of hours and the blessing of news. No messages in or out, until they were at their destination. It was the only way that they could avoid interception, and the constant, agonizing threat of the Galra forces.-Its Voltron. In space. But different this time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to begin by saying that most of the good parts about this are Em's fault. The AU itself, the beta reading, and all that are all because of @IlluminatingSceadugenga being a 100% good and patient friend. Thank you for that.

The hardest part about trans-systemic flight, once one got over the fact that the unlicensed craft probably had its gravity generator shut off every few days, and the times when the heads-up before a hostile boarding was given two minutes prior by a tractor beam from a cloaked ship, wasn't actually the agonizing days of transit. It probably wasn't the boredom of the people around him either, Lance realized. He could deal with Hunk taking apart every piece of equipment and putting it back together, and he could deal with Keith staring into space while sharpening the nearest bladed object. They dealt with the constant stream of words that spouted from his throat from the moment things got quiet, to the moment he went hoarse; he was eternally thankful that neither of them had snapped his neck, as many others had threatened to do. 

Rather, the hardest part of long-distance space voyages was being stuck in a time capsule for weeks on end, homesick for the passage of hours and the blessing of news. No messages in or out, until they were at their destination. That was the only way that they could avoid interception, and the constant, agonizing threat of the Galra forces. Last week’s newspad flashed to life as he thumbed through the articles, again.

_Xandra Galactica Album Nominated for Fulrec Award_

Well, tabloid journalism would be tabloid journalism. Lance admitted to himself that the fact that the motion-graphics were far more interesting than any paper on earth, as Xandra winked at him with two of her three eyes through the page. Her voice had range, though her songs were a bit tasteless. 

_Katie Holt Sighted? Influential Family Still Absent_

This was a bit more concerning, though the fact it wasn't a headline was a comfort. While the Holt family hadn't really been seen in the public for almost a year now, their withdrawal from their position as Terran Ambassadors led to grim speculation. They were deep in hiding now, and Lance smirked at the fact that he knew far more than whatever Cirrop Mulvetal was writing the article. He continued to bask in the warmth of his intellectual superiority as he swiped to the next article.

_Present Terran Ambassador to Join Galran Outreach_

The words themselves were terrifying, and Mulvetal seemed unwilling to write anything lighter than grim, but Lance still felt that thrill of revolution, seeing the picture of someone so influential, and knowing that he was planning the demise of every enemy he shook hands with. Takashi Shirogane was the deadliest weapon that their tiny revolution could have up their sleeve, and he played the role with conviction. 

The next article was a crossword, and Lance had given up on those the moment they started to go in three dimensions. 

.

Docking on Venandus was suspiciously smooth, for an operation that tended to go awry far more frequently than it went without a hitch. The trio were told to remain in the cargo bay while the captain, a small tripedal Garn, performed a routine inspection. 

“I don't have a good feeling about this,” Hunk murmured, voice low enough to evade the hearing range of the Garn. “The engine isn't running, and any inspection of a ship this small should start with the engine. Check for hiccups, ‘n all that. But you hear that?”

“No, unless it's the sound of nothing. In which case, yes.”

Hunk nodded, “That's it.”

If Keith was listening to them, he wasn't showing it. He paced the chamber’s length, silently, wolflike, eyes scanning the shadows for anything out of place. His hands clenched and unclenched. His anxiety was physical. 

Meanwhile, Lance internalized his nerves, closing his eyes and counting his breaths in an attempt to direct his racing thoughts to something more productive. They had hardly been allowed to leave their quarters for the duration of the trip, in order to shave off a few cruts from their expenses, but he knew the route from their quarters to the cargo bay, and to the cryo-storage chamber that he had stumbled upon near the beginning of their stay while pretending he had lost his way returning from the bathroom. Shakily, he pulled up the flickering holo-pad embedded in his wristwatch, and began sketching the layout of the ship. 

He was interrupted by a grunt from Hunk, who had somehow managed to quietly remove a panel of the wall, and was fishing around inside. “Hey, could one of you guys kindly persuade me to not do something stupid?”

Lance felt Keith’s eyes boring into his back, a sensation that he tended to ignore since Keith often spaced out looking in his general direction. 

“What kind of stupid?” he asked, deactivating his notes.

“If I cut this wire, and he's inspecting the ship the way that any sane person inspects a ship, then there's gonna be signs of either a fire in the cargo bay, or a broken connection. Either way, the captain should be back in here in less than three minutes. If he's doing what he says he’s doing.”

“That doesn't sound stupid at all.” Another sharp glare from Keith-wards. 

Hunk jerked his arm back and deftly placed the grating back on the wall. “Well, I mean, the stupid part is the bit where we have three minutes to make a plan.”

Lance scoffed. “We can do three minutes.”

“Two minutes and forty-six seconds,” grunted Keith, finally coming to a halt. His right eye was reflecting light in that eerie, catlike way that it did when the Twines in his eye aligned into ghosts across his vision. 

“The plan is, we wait by that door, and act casual. If he comes in looking panicked, we’ll assume the best, and if not, we’ll think of a better plan.” 

“Two minutes thirty-one.”

There was a ticking noise, and Hunk blanched. “Scratch that, he’s trying to send off a transmission, which probably would be easier for him to do if we didn't cut that last cable. We’ve gotta go _now._ ”

Keith was the first one out the door, and Lance thanked him for his chivalry as he stood aside to let the others through. 

“I'm not the one with the map,” he retorted, and Lance had to take a moment's pause to remember that _oh yeah, he did have a map,_ albeit a rather shitty one. 

“Do we have a plan yet?” asked Hunk, fitting together the pieces of his bulky weapon, that they were definitely not allowed to have on board. 

Lance shrugged, flicking the switch on his spark rifle from safety to stun. “We go until we run into someone. If they're Galra, we shoot ‘em and get the hell out. If not, we think of a better plan.”

Hunk sighed, finally hefting the yet-unclassified weapon onto his shoulder. “Listen, plans usually don't include making another plan in the middle of them.”

“So?”

_“Lance I do not trust your plan!”_

“Too late.” Keith was almost too quiet to hear, speaking in a whisper that the bantering pair had come to understand. It had only taken one mission as a team for them to learn to trust the only member of the trio with augmented senses. “Footsteps, I'm guessing three or four people. Heavier than our Garn friend there.”

Hunk heaved the heaviest sigh he could without alerting the intruders to their presence. “The craft’s a Morningstar, judging by the size, and those tend to be pretty symmetrical. So, if they're coming our way, then we can, um” he outlined a rectangle with his fingers, “go this way, and get out before we’re seen.”

“Gonna trust you on that.” Lance reflected the map on itself, a golden channel of light trailing behind his finger as he outlined their tentative path. 

In fact, avoiding the patrol was surprisingly easy. Despite the secrecy that their captain had ensured for the duration of the trip, spaceships tended to look fairly similar once you had snuck around on enough of them, and Lance had done quite enough sneaking for several lifetimes. They just had to open the hatch and-

“Oh.”

“Fuck.”

Of _course_ the hypothetical Galra patrolling the ship had to hire some Clenonian Mercenaries to guard the entrances. There were only two of them; silent, near-blind and armed with the deadlier features of both canines and crocodiles, as well as some particularly nasty looking guns. While their sensory organs for the visible light spectrum were crudely-developed, they had an uncanny ability to track motion, which would lead to problems. 

Or, it would, if not for the fact that they had the _keenest sharpshooter on this half of the galaxy_ on their side. Lance grinned, inched his rifle into position, and locked his arm braces to steady his hand. 

The leftmost Clenonian snapped their head to face the place where Keith had definitely been mere seconds ago. Lance squeezed the trigger, hearing the soft crackle of electricity send the target to the ground, twitching, and then still. He shot a glance at Hunk, before aiming for the second mercenary. A coarse grunt, followed by a thud from behind them answered the unasked question. 

Leave it to Keith to take care of the patrol that they had been so careful to avoid. 

The second mercenary fell with a slight sizzling noise, and Lance launched himself off the accursed spaceship, and onto the rocky surface of a planet. With real, non-manufactured gravity. Dusting himself off, he began to sprint away from the ship, not exactly sure where to go, followed by his friends, and mercifully, nothing else. 

Venandus seemed to be a massive canyon, slightly too pink to remind anyone of Earth, but a bit nostalgic nevertheless. Despite their present solitude, the three of them couldn’t risk stopping for too long. Whatever craft those Galra soldiers came from wasn’t there any longer, and they had seen no trace of the captain, either. That wasn’t going to stop Lance from starting up communications the moment they had the chance, though. Pausing for a breath of air and a sip of water, he powered up his holo-pad.

The screen exploded into blue static. Lance smacked the metallic casing a few times, until an image began to resolve. There was a low electrical drone, and then--

“--are we getting through? Hello?”

“Coran!”

“There you are, it’s splendid to see you again! And the others?”

“They’re with me, yeah.”

“Hi Coran!” Hunk waved, dragging Keith into the view of the camera. 

“All limbs intact, I see, good, good! Ah, here comes--” 

There was a garbled voice on the other end of the speakers, and, despite the fact that he should by all means have gotten over it by now, Lance’s heart still gave a slight stutter as Princess Allura appeared on the screen. 

“Paladins! I am always ever so glad to see you. I trust you had a safe transit?”

Lance looked at Hunk, who shifted his gaze from Lance to Keith, who, discreetly as he could, wiped a smear of blue-tinged blood off the side of his neck. 

Allura fiddled with the console for a second. “Erm, sorry, I think the audio may have cut out for a second there. Did anything... Happen?”

Hunk took one for the team. “Nope, nothing happened. Definitely no daring escapades, and _definitely_ nothing out of the usual.”

Well, he wasn’t quite lying on that last claim.

**Author's Note:**

> *the Garn is a religious order, spanning across several races. Members give up their name and other aspects of their person in order to be closer to Garn Himself. There isn't actually much of a moral code, though.  
> **A crut is a unit of Standard Galactic Currency (SGC) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing something serious in a while, and that feels really nice, honestly. It's also the first time that I've had a plan for a second chapter that connects the intro to the rest of the story, so perhaps we will see chapter two within the next soon? 
> 
> I've decided to try and define some unclear terms in the end notes, since I'm making up a lot of nouns here. Some things are going to be explained better in the future, but if you want clarification on anything, just leave a comment and I'll be happy to define/explain stuff. Again, thank you for reading, comments and kudos are all greatly appreciated!


End file.
